


Drowning

by Blondie54x



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blondie54x/pseuds/Blondie54x
Summary: A drowning Napoleon has regrets.





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, so any mistakes are my own.

He’d heard once that drowning was a peaceful way to die, though he wondered how anyone alive could possibly know that for a fact. He’d always said there was no good way to die. He’d come so close to the edge so many times he felt he was an expert on the subject. He knew this much; it’s a terrifying experience, facing death. Beside the pain that usually accompanied it, there was the feeling of regret, of running out of time, of never being able to say the things that had been left unsaid.

Sinking slowly down in the water, he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. The need to inhale overwhelmed him and he opened his mouth and water rushed in.

That’s when he felt it, a peaceful calm as his body sank down. A swirl of colour filled his vision and he felt himself smile. This wasn’t so bad after all. He could just let go, free himself from the burden of life, leave everything behind.

And then he thought, _Illya_ …

He’d heard your life flashed before your eyes when you were about to die and he’d always thought of that as bunkum, but then it happened; his first meeting with Illya entered his thoughts, how he’d considered him too young, too slight, too beautiful to be an agent. The scene in his mind changed; he and Illya on a double date and how he’d wished the pretty girls weren’t there. Then another memory; tending to Illya’s bruised back, the guilt he felt at wanting to do more than tend his wounds. Illya, Illya. One event after another…

His dying mind filled with remorse and anger at leaving his partner and friend, yet there was comfort that Illya would be the last thing he would think about.

Suddenly, there was a tug on his arm and a sensation of rushing upward towards a bright light.

He broke the surface of the water, confused and dazed, his mouth full of brackish water. Cold air hit his face as he was dragged over the side of the canal onto dry land and turned onto his back. Fingers pinched his nose closed as a mouth descended on his, breathing air into his lungs, the sweetest air he’d ever tasted, delivered by a mouth he’d fantasized about for the last year.

Reflexively, he coughed up the water in his lungs and his rescuer started to pull back, relief evident on his face. Napoleon took a lungful of the frigid air as he gazed up at the beautiful, worried features of his friend.

Now was the time, no more room for regrets. Now or never. He reached up a finger to smooth over the frown lines between Illya’s eyes, then slid his hand through the wet strands of blond hair to the back of his head, drawing his head down. He turned his head slightly to one side and pressed his lips against his Illya’s, lingering to show his intent. There was a moment of surprise before Illya returned the kiss, his hand coming to rest against Napoleon’s cheek. Napoleon was drowning again, a welcome drowning, this time. He surrendered to the sensation, his surroundings forgotten, his near-death forgotten, grateful that he’d been given this chance to show Illya how he felt and, somehow, not surprised to realise Illya felt the same way.

Inevitably, the necessity for oxygen ended the kiss and Illya slowly pulled away, rubbing a thumb over Napoleon’s lips. He smiled crookedly. “I’m supposed to be the one giving you the kiss of life.”

Napoleon smiled back. “You just did, love, you just did.”

 

**The End**


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